In Black Ink
by maddysutcliff
Summary: A series of short drabbles regarding the romantic life of Grell Sutcliff and William T. Spears.
1. Chapter 1

**Obduracy**.

She never seemed to get ready quick enough in the morning. Whether they be an hour late, or hours early, her pace never changed.

The profligate behaviour didn't cease in the early morning hours. Hair brushing was accompanied by whines and groans about how early it actually was, as if he didn't know himself.

Although, watching her get ready was a favourite pastime of the strict supervisor. As if he had nothing else to do except snap at her for being slow, to which she seemed to go even slower.

_"Eyeliner doesn't draw itself, darling."_

It was these times as well when Grell looked her best, cleaned and proper in her work uniform when William lost most control over himself.

Hence the reason she was pinned against the wall, the stoic reaper's lips against her neck, smelling the hint of rose and vanilla perfume on her pulse point.

An attendance record was the last thing on his mind right now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Omertà**

He told her things that he would never let another ear devour.

From sweet nothing's to kinky orders, the way his tongue rolled when speaking to the redhead made her squirm.

There were also the times when he snapped at her, yelled, critiqued, told her she was worthless and moral-less.

She adored it.

Although, Grell also let William hear things that nobody else could relish in.

Her deepest secrets. Her darkest memories. Her fears, her wants, her needs.

It was the things they told each other that made the difference. The things nobody else heard.

_"I love you."_

_"I love you, too."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Soporific.**

Hands trailing against bare skin. A gasp, a yawn, and a plea to go to bed and a _Grell stop feeling me up_.

She obeyed silently, rolling off the dark haired reaper, instead pressing into his arm.

Obnoxious even when they were about to sleep.

He sighed, turning onto his side towards the wall, leaving the redhead to cling to his back.

"William~"

That damned voice. He turned back over, looking into pouting eyes.

"Please?"

Another sigh. She knew exactly how to work him. Her eyes, her lips, everything was in full begging mode. He tried to fight her, tried to ignore it...

The supervisor fully moved his body, taking Grell into his arms and holding her as he shut his eyes.

"I love you~"

"Go to bed."


	4. Chapter 4

**Melancholy**.

Very few times had he found Grell crying. Very few times had he noticed her makeup had been smudged slightly.

She claimed she was strong. She would not be labelled as a weak woman.

But she was wrong.

Somebody would break her, or it'd be one insult too many that would send her spiralling into a fit of anger, and soon after, a crying spell.

William used the same tactic every time. When he'd find her curled up on the couch, shaking with tears, he'd drop everything he'd be doing and comfort her.

A sad Grell was an unstable Grell, and he was the only one who would calm her down.

His hand would move up to caress her back, his other hand wiping away blackened tears.

Words spilled from his mouth that seemed very uncharacteristic for the strict reaper.

He would tell her she was beautiful, and he loved her, and that was all that mattered.

The tears would cease and she would press her lips to his, her own hands running up his neck to wrap around his shoulder blades, dragging him down closer.

Things would escalate from there, and Grell would be truly convinced, even if he said it rarely, _he found her beautiful. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Peripatetic**.

There was nothing worse than when William would leave for business trips.

He would scold her over and over to be good, don't call him every three minutes, and most importantly, _do your work._

She would inform him that everything would be fine, and the only thing that would be broken was her heart.

He'd roll his eyes and try to leave, not before she kissed him longer than she should have, then finally letting him go.

Green eyes would meet with brighter ones, he would raise an eyebrow, and give her one last line of advice.

"Do your paperwork."

The supervisor shut the door behind him, leaving Grell to her own devices.

William's phone rang before he even got out of the apartment complex.


	6. Chapter 6

**Nascent**.

She had asked him time and time again if he would allow it.

Every time there would be a _"No, Grell. It's far too dangerous." _

All danger aside, the procedure itself was extremely expensive. What money she made from work went into paying half of her and William's rent- _she had always wanted to be independent_- and clothes, shoes, makeup, and all the other frivolities that made her feel like a woman, without the surgery.

William had spoken to many doctors over the years. They all told him how dangerous it was, even with a reaper's healing capabilities, Grell could be confined to a wheelchair if something of the worst scenario were to happen.

That was enough for him not to agree with Grell on the matter.

However, she told him one day as they were sitting at breakfast that she would be saving for the surgery, William's approval or not.

His heart dropped into his stomach, certainly she wouldn't be taking a risk, not when he was so worried about her.

"_I'm doing it for me, William. And although I am taking you into consideration, you know how long I've wanted this."_

Her decision made its full appearance when he noticed a jar on the mantle of the fireplace, filled up with notes of different currency, as well as coins.

Across the front was a label, with loopy handwriting, spelling out '_sex change' _in red pen.

She slipped a pound or so in every day. When her paycheck came in, however, he'd notice 50 pound notes sitting in the jar.

She always bugged him about his spare change going into the jar, at least, but he would repel, saying that this was for her, and not him.

_Luckily, she never counted up the money in the jar yet. _

_Luckily, she hadn't noticed him slip his own full pay check into the jar every month. _


	7. Chapter 7

**[[Quick Authors Note: Thank you guys so very much for reading and reviewing and favouriting. Believe me, many more drabbles to come!]]**

**Redoubtable**.

Nobody knew William T. Spears better than Grell Sutcliff.

Not even William himself.

Before he even felt himself start to stress out or panic, Grell would be behind him, her hands working against his sore muscles like a professional.

Torn between scolding her for not being in her office and leaning back further into her touch, he opted for a mixture of both. It was late and perhaps relaxation time is what he needed.

"You should be working." He muttered, his back slightly arching against her palms.

"Tsk tsk, William. How'd you ever let yourself get these knots~?"

She obviously changed the subject, pressing into his shoulder blades and rotating.

His mind wandered from the fact there was probably still loads of paperwork sitting in the redhead's office, and instead on how soft yet strong her touch felt.

Within a few minutes, he felt soft lips on his neck, then his ear, and after that, his jaw.

Wonderful.

_Relaxation time, indeed_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Atavistic.**

Reading ahead in one's own record wasn't forbidden at the dispatch, however, it was frowned upon. Reapers had a certain extent of looking ahead into the future. Death came quickly, yes, but the events leading up to a mortal's death were substantial in their record. A few months would be predicted ahead in their lives. More than often it was correct, although, there was always a chance of something changing, and the mortal would escape death.

The universe was always changing. No reaper could deny that.

Being a man of reason, William preferred not to look ahead in his record. He knew some of his employees did, and they wouldn't be too surprised by the results. Being immortal wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The reaper's who did look ahead only discovered that they would be promoted, or possibly demoted in work.

Their lives were work. There was nothing more to it.

However, he overheard a trainee speaking of how he learned he would fail the final exam in the end, so he wasn't even going to try. Somebody who gave up so easily was not welcome on his team, but it did get the supervisor thinking. Perhaps there was something substantial in his record that he needed to see.

His feet carried him to the library faster than his mind could stop him.

* * *

_It couldn't be._

_No, it wasn't._

_It must've been a joke. Somebody down in journalism must've made a typo in his record. That was it. A mistake._

But, deep down, he knew it wasn't.

Four days. Four days and William T. Spears' record would end.

Death by demon attack.

He refused to believe it. He was strong enough to take on a mere demon, without doubt. He could change his fate. He would take precautionary measures. He wouldn't go out the night of his "death", keep his scythe at his side, lock the doors. He couldn't die now, he was young in his life.

Centuries old for a reaper was nothing to brag about. To the higher ups, William was still immature and wouldn't be promoted to a higher position for a few hundred years.

Should he tell Grell? No, no reason to worry her. He could see her now, rambling about how she'd protect him and no dirty demon would dare touch her man.

If worst came to worst, though...

* * *

"We're going on vacation."

"Pardon?"

Grell looked up from the file she was reading. Something about dress code violations that the dispatch had sent out. The memo seemed awfully pointed toward her.

He kept his tone, snatching the file from the redhead, and looking her in the eye.

"We're going on vacation." William spoke sternly, he wasn't joking this time.

She laughed. "William T. Spears, taking vacation days. Don't play around, darling."

The redhead took the file again, her eyes skimming the section about proper hair length. _As if._

"I've booked our tickets as well as our hotel room."

She looked back up to the dark haired supervisor, just as the canteen seemed to empty for the morning shifts.

"You're joking. Where did your little mind come up with this?"

He glared at her for a moment before answering.

"I need a break, is all. And I knew you would whine if I wasn't going to take you anyw-" A flash of red flung across the table, knocking the cups of tea over and onto the floor. Arms wrapped around the supervisor's neck, and he felt sticky lips on his cheek.

"Oh Will!~ It'll be lovely! Where are we going? Oh, I need to pack. You should've given me warning! I need to go dig up my passport and-" He pushed her off of him, standing and smoothing off his now damp suit, wiping red lipstick off of his cheek.

"I expect you at my flat precisely at 6 o'clock tonight. No later, or I'll be going alone."

She accepted his invite with another kiss in a much more appropriate place.

* * *

The hotel room was fabulous. A penthouse. Who knew William was such a romantic?

A bottle of Chardonnay sat on the bed, red rose petals flung across the white sheets. The honeymoon special.

"Oh gods, Will. Paris. The city of love!~ I told everyone you were a sweetheart. I did~"

Grell set her suitcase on the floor, moving over to the balcony where she flung open the glass doors, giving them a full view of Paris. The lights of the city glowed, reflecting in the redhead's eyes in such a beautiful way-

No. He couldn't get too emotional about her. The reason that he really took her here, well, she didn't know. After all, his predicted death may not even happen. He could change his fate. He would.

The redhead moved back over to William, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss of thanks. He willingly shut his eyes, deciding to push away his worries for tonight, and instead focus on the hands currently squeezing his backside.

* * *

She loved Paris, and it showed.

Shopping with her wasn't a pleasant experience. He was left carrying the bags more often than not, which was difficult in the summer heat. She skipped ahead of him, pointing out various landmarks at which she would make him take a picture with her, for old times sake.

Memories. Perhaps the last memories they would have together.

He kept up his facade, however, taking her to bakeries and buying her the jewellery she so desired. At night, they would relish in passion, forgetting about the outside world and instead on how perfectly they completed one another.

The day of his predicted death, he took her to a play. He wore his best suit, adorned with a red rose tucked into his pocket. His other half, however, was absolutely stunning.

A floor length gown, tight enough to accentuate her curves, yet loose to not let any unwomanly parts show. Red, of course. A stunning colour of red, a shade darker than her hair. She spent hours on her makeup and hair, a flawless face framed by a few loose curls falling from the updo on top of her head.

They walked arm in arm down the streets of Paris.

* * *

Romeo and Juliet.

French wasn't his first language, nor was it Grell's.

However, she knew every line, and would translate it to William.

She wanted him to understand the play. Not her favourite of Shakespeare, but she knew he tried. He tried well enough to actually take her to a play in Paris, and wear red for that matter. There was something in the back of her mind that made her feel uneasy. Why all this? Why now? Sure, she and William had a few quick flings now and then, nothing more than one night stands that didn't leave the comfort of each other's bedroom.

And now he had taken her on a trip? A rather expensive one, she noted. Everything had been top notch. He bought her clothes and jewellery and even brought her roses this morning when she woke.

She could barely get him to let her spend the night after they made love back home. And now, it was as if he had just fell in love with her, the same way she loved him.

She didn't question it. She latched back onto his arm and told William another line that he had missed.

* * *

"It had only been three days. There's no way two teenagers could fall in love. Shakespeare was a daft man."

She jokingly smacked him across the arm.

"He was a genius. It's true love~, William. You wouldn't understand."

He rolled his eyes, walking out of the theatre and out into the cobblestone street. Grell kept kissing his neck and his cheek, but that didn't help the fact he was dreading what might happen this night.

3 minutes. 3 minutes until his scheduled death.

His heart thudded. They were almost back to the hotel. Grell was going on about one of Juliet's dresses when he was certain he smelled the awful pits of hell themselves.

It was close. He could feel it.

He picked up his pace, the hotel coming into view. Grell whined for him to slow down, and that her feet hurt. Couldn't she smell the demon? Perhaps she was too caught up in love to notice the death approaching. Death was such a common part of their lives, the smallest moments of happiness were a miracle.

A black smoke from the corner of his eyes. A demon aura. He pulled Grell faster when he heard a crack, turning to see that she had broken her heel.

"Dammit, Will! I told you to slow down. These are Jiavonni!"

Just at that moment, a horrible growling noise sounded behind them. They both whipped their heads around, seeing a full fledged demon, in it's true form. He summoned his scythe, grabbing Grell's arm and flinging her behind him.

"My, my~ Two pretty reapers. Care for a fight?"

The demon's voice was raspy, it's red eyes glowing in the night. His scythe shot forward, cutting a part of the demon's arm. It wailed in pain, the noise echoing through the streets of London. He heard the wurr of a chainsaw behind him. Grell ran forward, slicing at every part of the demon she could get, watching the thick black blood squirt over her dress.

The demon got angrier. The energy around the three of them seemed to shift, then in a very slow motion, the demon ripped the chainsaw from Grell's hands, flinging it back in the direction of William.

**Red.**

* * *

She laid over him in the bed, trying to wrap his wounds up before the grey metal could seem deeper into his body. That was the horrible thing about scythes, one cut and if not treated correctly, it could kill within minutes.

Grell was unharmed. Seeing William a bloody mess had sent her into a rage, killing the demon with her hands alone and covering herself in sticky black blood in the process. She had carried him back to the hotel, muttering words of comfort to him. Grell was a talented reaper. She knew how to wrap up his wounds the best she could.

However, he was too far injured for saving. He knew that, but Grell didn't want to believe it. She kept sewing up the various cuts on his chest, her own tears falling down her face and onto the bloodied bed. William was conscious, but in severe pain, his eyes dropping closed every so often.

Grell had done her best. His wounds were stitched, and now it was up to fate itself to see if his cuts would heal before they reached his heart. A warm body laid next to the dying reaper on the bed. He could feel her wet tears against his arm, her hands moving through his hair in a comforting manner.

William's eyes shut.

"You bastard. You knew." She hissed, sitting up slightly so she could see his face. It was extremely painful to talk, but William did it anyway.

"Yes."

She gritted her teeth harder, wiping her eyes. He couldn't see her such a mess. She was a lady.

"If you weren't dying I would kill you."

William's lips curved into a small smile, the first time Grell had ever seen him express his happiness. She felt a lump in her throat, the threat of tears returning.

"You can't leave me, William. Please. Please. I can't live without you. You know that. This isn't how my love story is supposed to end."

She wrapped her arms around his cold body, listening to his heartbeat slow.

"You aren't going to die. We're going to go back to work and you're going to scold me and kick me out of your office like always, okay?" She shuddered with tears.

"That's how it's supposed to go. I'll even do my paperwork William, okay? I'll do it, all of it. You'll be proud of me, right?" Her hand moved up to his cheek, looking up into his slightly opened eyes.

A twinge of hope went through her.

"I've always been..proud of you, Grell Sutcliff." His eyes met hers and she shuddered again, breaking down into sobs as she felt his hand on her own cheek, brushing away blood and tears.

"Haven't you told..me before..death do us part?"

She nodded, grasping his free hand with her own as she stared into his half lidded eyes.

"I suppose this is my parting farewell then, Grell."

She shook, squeezing his hand as she watched his eyes close, his hand slowly falling from her face.

"I love you, William."

His record shot out into the room, reels of his life wrapping around them as Grell held onto her love tightly. She muttered to herself, hearing the sounds of reapers entering the room. _Don't touch my William._

"Good night, good night, Will. parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow."

The French Dispatch had two reapings that night. One, from the demon attack. The other, a broken heart.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sclerotic**.

She was flirting with the new recruit.

It didn't take him long to find out. He had been delivering some files to the glasses department when he noticed a redhead out of the corner of his eye, pushing a slightly taller, brown haired man up against the door to her office, her fingers playing with his bowtie.

His blood boiled.

About a half a second later, red hair was grasped firmly in his palm. He dragged the giggling blushing redhead away from the flustered man, showing not the slightest bit of emotion.

"Someone's jealous~"

The door to his office locked. He threw her onto the floor, letting the files fall to the floor carelessly.

Just as her head collided with the carpeted ground, he grabbed her necktie, pulling her up slightly so he was glaring down at her.

Oh, how those cold eyes pierced her very soul~

Two more seconds ticked by. Lips collided with hers. Cold, unmoving lips against red, warm, plump ones. She was his. Only behind closed doors.

He felt her grin into the possessive kiss, and he pulled away, expression unchanging.

_"Mine."_

_"Yours~"_


	10. Chapter 10

**Canard**.

Valentine's Day. Probably the worst day in existence according to Grell Sutcliff.

She had nobody to buy her flowers or take her to dinner. Being the romantic she was, a box of chocolates from someone could very well make her life.

Nothing ever came, however.

That didn't mean she never gave out gifts. Roses to the men in her division. Eric, Alan, and Ronald. Perhaps a box of chocolates for Ronald. He was her junior, after all.

The young blonde would give her a kiss on the cheek, paired with a "_Thank'ya, Miss Sutcliff_."

How darling he was.

Not her type, however.

No, her type was the man sitting in the desk just through the thick oak door.

A red bag was dangling from her hand, William~ written on the tag.

He would like her gift. He would leap across the desk and kiss her, finally confessing his deep undying love for the redhead.

At least, that's how the script in her head played out.

Reality, however...

_"Another gift?" _

_"It's Valentines Day! The day of love~" _

He looked from the red bag on his desk, then back to his paperwork.

_"Pointless. Get back to work." _

_"But Will-"_

_"Now."_

He didn't seem like he was playing around. She pursed her lips, then turned and left the room without a second glance toward the man who had broken her heart again.

* * *

William looked down toward the red bag. Ghastly colour, red was. Far too bright and flamboyant and loud.

Just like Grell Sutcliff.

He reached out toward the bag, taking a deep breath before reaching his hand inside. Something soft.

Something warm.

He pulled out a hand knitted green and black scarf. A bit sloppingly done, but nothing he could do better.

It was thoughtful.

He reached further down into the bag, pulling out a card with his name written inside a heart on the front. Typical Grell.

Carefully tearing the paper as to not rip the card, he pulled out a handwritten letter, done in bright red ink.

"_You always seem so cold in the mornings, love. This took me such a long time. I always knew how to sew, but knitting is far harder._

_You seem to like green the best. I don't know why, I think it's awfully bland. _

_I hope you wear this. I wouldn't want you to catch a cold._

_Love,_

_Grell~"_

A sigh filled the room. She'd taken the time to learn how to knit just to give him a gift. Had he even bothered to get her a card? Of course not.

He'd make it up to her.

* * *

A redhead came into his sight of view as a slew of reapers exited the dispatch, leaving for the day.

It was snowing, cold, and wet. London weather could really be a pain sometimes.

Thank death for the green and black scarf currently tucked around his neck, giving him some comfort from the harsh winds.

"Sut- Grell."

The redhead turned around to see the dark haired supervisor, her eyes meeting his and then trailing down to the scarf.

"You like it?"

There was a hint of hope in her voice, a small smile on her lips.

"It keeps me warm, yes."

He noticed her red cheeks and nose, as well as her shivering hands.

Mind over matter.

He leaned in, pressing his lips against her cold ones, surprised at how utterly good it felt to be kissing her. Something coursed through him, something that made his insides feel just as warm as his skin at the moment.

She gasped as their kiss broke, making wide eyes up at the taller man.

"_I wouldn't want you to catch a cold, Grell_."


	11. Chapter 11

**[[Authors Note: Another sad drabble. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you guys, I promise! ]]**

**Sanguine**

Not inviting her was one thing, but not telling her period was something that couldn't be forgiven.

Ronald had asked her. Asked what she was wearing, in fact. She had been confused at first, and it slowly escalated to absolute betrayal, followed by a crying fit that ended in Ronald taking her back to his place to calm her down.

_William T. Spears' wedding to Rebecca Hartfeild would be held on the 20th of October, at Major's Chapel in downtown London. _

This piece of information was the reason Grell was on Ronald's couch, curled up into a ball of redheaded sadness.

"H-he...he was my everything..I did everything for him, Ronald..."

The blonde paused for a moment. Choosing his words wisely was a good decision.

"You can come as my date, if it'll make'ya feel better, Red."

She groaned, burying her face into the white pillow, staining it black with makeup.

"I want to go with him! He's mine...not that..boring, old, whore!"

"Becca's a nice lady, Grell."

He should've expected the pillow to come flying his way, but it still caught him off guard a bit.

"I'll go...but you're wearing a red bowtie."

* * *

Grell had never looked so beautiful as the day she showed up to her love's wedding.

A floor length red gown, one that would surely rival the brides in beauty. Every curve was right in the proper place, which Grell had perfected with foam to make her look more womanly.

Her hair fell in curls down her back, a shade lighter than her dress. Green eyes were hidden with a veil, leaving her identity a secret. Although, with all the red going on...

Ronald stayed by her side, adjusting the itchy crimson bowtie around his neck every so often. _Was it hot in here? _

Soon enough, William walked down the aisle of the church to the pedestal, dressed in black and white, like always.

Ronald heard Grell sneer, but he did nothing to stop her behaviour.

Then, the shuffling of a dress was heard, and everyone in the chapel stood to see the beautiful bride. A white gown covered her, sleeves adorned in lace, her brown hair pulled up in an elegant bun on top of her head.

Grell didn't stand.

What did he see in her?! She was so bland, boring, stoic...

Perhaps her and William were perfect for one another.

No- He was Grell's and Grell's only. Had Rebecca saved him from death during their academy years? Had Rebecca stayed by his side during those long days of overtime that lasted into the night hours? Had Rebecca remembered his birthday when nobody else in the dispatch did?

No, and she didn't deserve to be standing next to that _oh-so_ handsome man at the alter.

Ronald did not attempt to stop the redhead from rising to her feet. The look in her eyes told him that if he did get in her way, he'd be facing death.

It was no more than two seconds before the priest and William were covered in sticky, passionate, red blood.

Screams rang throughout the church and William looked wide eyes down at his former bride, who now had a chainsaw whirring through her chest, spraying him with the deadly colour.

Grell looked up, grinned.

_"I do, William~" _


	12. Chapter 12

**[[Authors Note: I've seen a lot of War prompts for the reapers, I thought I'd contribute!]] **

**Anarchy.**

The tent they were given was too small, for one.

They were lucky, however. Many of William's men were still out fighting.

The war had not only been between mortals, but heaven and hell had clashed just as badly, the reapers forced to fight for their own realm's safety.

The bombing of London itself had killed many reapers in the dispatch. Being blown to bits was something that could be repaired with proper care, but the sheer magnitude of men coming in with their heads unattached were too much for the makeshift infirmary to handle.

For now, most of the dispatch was safe. Nobody could risk returning for the realm for now, so the dozens of reapers created a camping space in the forests outside London for the night.

In the morning, they'd have to relocate, but the few hours they were given seemed like a miracle.

They were mostly concealed by bushes and other foliage, leaving a circular space in the middle for the reapers to set up tents and make a campfire to warm themselves.

Even reapers needed heat time to time, especially in this harsh winter. The food was another problem. They needed energy, but they began to run low on their supply. Rationing bread was not ideal, but the group of reapers were faring quite well compared to the mortals and demons.

That was another threat. Not only the bombs that were intended for the mortal soldiers could hit them, but demons and angels seemed more than happy to kill a reaper at any given time. And currently, they had control over their dispatch and library.

William had been taking a head count of his men- and one self proclaimed woman. 17 were in his brigade. The dispatch had split them into 4 groups, William taking his own division, with the addition of a few glasses department workers , and other supervisors taking people from research departments, the library, general affairs, and scythe repair.

Every reaper fought with their scythe, it was the easiest way. Demons could be killed in seconds, angels wouldn't even take that much.

Still, every so often a reaper would lose his scythe and be killed with it.

3 men so far in his group had been killed. Two by demon attacks and the third had been destroyed by a bomb. The doctors that travelled with them had recovered most of his body parts, but by then, it was too late.

William himself was thankful. Other groups hadn't been fairing as well, and he still had his redhead by his side, who had been enjoying this more than she should.

Watching the rage in her eyes as she would take down a demon or angel was nerving, but he never questioned her tactics.

Just as William finished his head count, Grell was at his side with a canteen of water, holding it up to him with a grin.

"Have you had any yet?"

"A few sips, yes, darling."

He nodded, taking the green pack from Grell and placing his lips to it, sucking down the warm water as if it was heaven's liquid itself.

Both Grell and William were in quite a state. Covered in dirt and blood, Grell seemed a bit angry that she couldn't do her makeup, although, she wasn't angry for long.

She knew they were fighting for their lives, and she had William to protect at that.

William noted that whenever they had been on the front lines, she hadn't been far away from him at all.

He preferred it that way.

Once his thirst was concealed for the most part, he passed the canteen to the reaper to his left, giving a warning not to drink too much.

The fire blazed in the middle of their camp, giving everyone a sense of comfort, for now. Being concealed from the outside forest was another thing that made the reapers seem at ease.

They had been given 10 two person tents along with their group. However, many men, being prudish, refused to sleep in the tents and instead slept out next to the blazing fire. Which, in reality, was more comfortable due to the harsh cold.

An hour later, the men had full bellies, a shipment of food falling from a parachute in the sky that must have ventured off course, intended for the mortals dropped at their camp.

It was filled with bread and cheese and beans, and even a few cartons of milk. They had feasted indeed.

The chatter around the fire began to die down, and several men went off into their own tents.

Grell was his tent mate, and he had no problem sleeping next to his lover.

She seemed more than pleased, excluding the nights when the bombs would rock the ground next to their tents.

This was one of those nights.

About a mile away, bombs were rocking the downtown London area, leaving the camp to shake with every blast.

Grell crawled into the tent with William, leaving the front zipper open to let the heat from the fire in.

The other men seemed not as nerved, still smoking and drinking around the fire, a few men joining in conversation from the surrounding tents.

Then, a bomb dropped only a few hundred yards from them.

At that point, everyone went inside to their tents, not zipping them up, however. It was absolutely freezing out and the fire would keep them warm, if the bombs didn't first.

Another explosion. The third one of the night. Grell gasped slightly, grabbing onto William tightly.

"Everything is fine, Grell."

Grell didn't let up, however. She pressed her dirtied face into the fabric of his heavy suit jacket.

A couple men chattered from their tents, speaking of some football match coming up, as if they weren't fighting for their lives.

The shaking redhead in his arms proved differently, the sound of gunfire miles away still sounding to their camp.

They were safe here, however. Except from the bombs.

"Grell. Calm down, please. You need some sleep."

She stopped her shaking, still latched onto his suit jacket for warmth. He didn't mind much, he knew she was cold and if he could help that, so be it.

Then, another bomb dropped close enough to them to rattle the trees.

Grell more than less screamed, grabbing William and pushing him to the ground, as if protecting him.

"Grell!"

She didn't let up.

"Grell, please. That was four. That's all one helicopter can carry. We're fine."

The shaking didn't stop.

He rubbed her back, trying to soothe her. Grell having a nervous breakdown certainly wouldn't help matters.

"Shhh. You're okay, I'm here. I love you."

The shaking stopped. He counted. Ten seconds.

Ten seconds was all it took for a bomb to drop.

_One_..

"Will-iam.."

_Two_..

"We should..run.."

_Three_..

"Just in case."

_Four_..

"Please.."

_Five_..

"Come on, William. Come on."

_Six_..

"William! I'm serious!"

_Seven_..

"William, are you bloody deaf?!"

_Eight_..

"The others are leaving! William, move!"

He stood, grabbing Grell's arm and running off in no particular direction, his eyesight blurry.

_Nine_..

She slowed next to him, huffing and looking down at her bloodied ankle. The stitches had come loose.

"William- go!"

_**Ten**_.


	13. Chapter 13

**Composer**.

The best nights were the ones at which they both sat in that dusty old basement, upon the rotted bench, and played the piano.

William had been taught by many professionals, to which his parents always paid for. Grell, on the other hand, coming from the lesser side of London, was taught by no other than her dark haired supervisor.

He sat them both down on the bench one day, placing his warm, callused hands- to which Grell always loved, travelling over her skin, or just clasped with hers - over her own, starting at the lower keys and slowly applying pressure to make her own fingers press into the keys.

"That's B, the black key is C." He would explain, tilting his head to see her slightly frustrated expression.

"C? The black one? I thought it was the white one."

Patience is virtue, and that was what William lived by.

Until she misplayed "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" for the 12th time.

"We'll practice tomorrow. And every night after that. I'll teach you it, I promise."

And that he did. They practiced every night. It seemed to be a routine that Grell loved; there was nothing more relaxing then William playing along with her, even though she was horrid.

Eventually, time caught up with them both, and William passed in the winter of 2840. The piano in the basement sat there for decades, collecting dust and grime, the old wooden bench nearly falling apart.

Grell didn't want to play anymore. Her frail bones ached at the mere thought of traveling down those steps, and the heartache of seeing the piano again made her sick.

Her William; her everything was gone and all she could do about it was wish for a quicker death.

However, on the year of their anniversary, Grell felt a sudden urge to travel down those steps once more.

It took her a while with her bad leg, but she did make it, sitting upon the bench with a tired sigh.

The sheet fell off the piano as Grell pushed it to the side, a cloud of dust engulfing the space around her.

"The black key is C."

She muttered to herself, her hands going to the black key, pressing down upon it.

The thick, deep sound filled the dark basement. A sound that was long forgotten. A sound she had missed.

"The white key is B."

She pressed down upon it again, a lighter sound coming from the piano this time, and the memory of her and William filled her mind.

Both hands went to the piano. She sighed, then began to play a sad, slow melody that William had taught her long ago.

_"What's this piece called?"_

_"The Widow's Cry."_

_"Well, that's awful dark~ Who wrote it?"_

_"Ann Murray. She wrote it after her husband died in World War _||_."_

_"Ah, that's horrible. You won't leave me, will you? My soldier?~"_

_"Not before you learn the first verse."_

Tears rolled down her face at the sound of the piano. Oh, how she had missed those long nights down in the basement with William. He was always so patient, so kind, so loving..

She forgot the last verse.

The sound ceased for a moment, and she started to cry a bit harder. Her William had worked so hard, and she couldn't even play the tune? How awful, she was a disappointment."

"G, F, then C again."

She swore she felt his hands on hers again, guiding her to the last row of keys, and she was back on track.

A few last seconds, and the sound in the basement ceased, her tears not breaking the smile that crossed her face.


	14. Chapter 14

**[[Authors Note: Thank you guys for bearing with me ;-; You're all so sweet! School's started again, so the drabbles seemed to sit and collect dust. However, I'm back on track. If you guys would like to leave some prompts in the comments, I could definitely write whatever you wish! I'm running short of inspiration, so help me out :)]]**

**Ailing**.

Reapers rarely got horrible colds, or sicknesses, due to their impeccable immune system and the fact they didn't have time to deal with the sniffles.

They were understaffed, after all.

However, once or twice in a reaper's existence, they would get sick. A few days spent in the infirmary would clear it up, but, if you were William T. Spears, you certainly had no time for that.

When Grell got sick, he bluntly disregarded it and ordered her to get up for work.

She was sick, and it showed. Dark circles shadowed bloodshot eyes from no sleep, her nose stuffed and her throat burning with pain. Her chest was aching as well, leaving her to shallow gasps of air.

Tears rolled down her face as William so easily walked away from her, leaving the bed and going off to the bathroom without a second glance.

She wanted to call out to him, only to try to reason with him that her bones ached to the point that even thinking about moving made her groan in pain.

A constricted throat didn't help that, however. She laid there, her mouth open as if in a silent plea for help.

He returned nearly thirty minutes later, freshly showered, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Grell? Are you still not up?!"

The look he gave her was enough to make Grell rethink staying home. She slowly tried to sit up, her head pounding in protest as she lifted it from the pillow. Her hands clutched at the sheets, to try to numb some of the pain as she sat up, taking in a deep breath that was followed by a whooping cough, deep and rough.

He turned his head around to face her, his previously angered face turning into that of sympathy. She really was sick.

William took a few steps toward her, his warm, wet hand lifting her chin up so he could get a better look at her face, and how miserable she looked.

A pause, and a sigh.

"You're staying home."

Grell took another deep breath, holding back another cough.

"Can't...sleep."

William's lips pursed as he began to get dressed, although, Grell noted that he didn't get any further than sliding on his boxers.

She opened her mouth to question, but decided to just go with whatever William wanted at that moment.

Instead of him going back to get the rest of his clothes, he turned off the lamp, shutting the blinds that seemed to let in too much light until they were engulfed in darkness yet again.

The bed creaked slowly as William got in with her, pulling up the covers to warm the now-shaking Grell.

William turned onto his side, an arm wrapping around the shivering redheads waist, bringing her closer to him instantly.

Her head laid against his shoulder, her breathing seeming to return to normal as she relaxed in his arms.

Fingers ran through locks of red hair, soothing the reaper into much needed sleep.

"It'll give me an excuse for a day off."

William explained, watching Grell's eyes shut calmly, her hand grasping at William's free one.

"Just sleep, Grell. I'll be here when you wake."

And that he was.


	15. Chapter 15

**[[Authors Note: This Drabble prompt was given to me by ZombiesKisses, who is sweetheart who reads all my drabbles. Go check her out! :) ]]**

**Intuition**

_Six hours_.

Six hours ago she was supposed to be home. He had counted the clock, hours, minutes, seconds. She had always gotten home before him. Why would today be any different?

She wasn't hurt, he knew that. The dispatch would have informed him, right? Of course they would have, he was her supervisor as well as her partner. They would contact him first, right?

_Right_?

He paced the floor of their apartment, his shoes clicking against the tile and his heart beating nearly out of his chest.

* * *

"Bassy!~"

The red reaper ran across the rooftops in London, peering over the balconies for a certain black haired demon.

It wasn't that she couldn't resist it, well...

She couldn't resist not seeing him when she ventured into London.

That face, that body, oh! It made her want to squirm and squeal. Perhaps underneath that butler, as well~

But then there was her William. Her ever so faithful William whom she loved more than anyone in the universe. Yes, she found him more attractive than Sebastian, but that didn't mean she still didn't want an eyeful of the hellion.

And after all, William was getting a surprise.

"Grell Sutcliff."

That voice was not one she wanted to hear. She slowly turned around, seeing a stern faced supervisor, his scythe nearly breaking in his white-knuckled grasp.

"Why did you call his name?"

Grell froze. He didn't sound angry this time, only hurt. She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it when she noticed the tightening of William's jaw.

"Is this why you have been late coming home? To come see this..this..thing?!"

William began to yell, obviously not happy with his lover. Grell took a step toward him, smiling.

"I love you~"

She certainly wasn't prepared for the strike that befell her. A smack across the face with the side of his scythe, a blow hard enough that she crumbled to the ground in pain, yelping and rubbing her cheek.

"Will..iam.."

Looking down upon her, as if disgusted, he pushed his glasses up on his nose and then he vanished.

Grell heard the sound of thunder, and it began to rain. Her aching face didn't help matters, although her heart suffered the worst damage.

* * *

She hadn't seen William for a week. Normally, they were with each other every waking hour of the day, but suddenly, she didn't matter to him anymore.

Which was the complete opposite. William cared about Grell more than he cared about himself, but the supervisor was fully convinced that she had been cheating on him.

With a _demon_, nonetheless.

As William sat in his office, scribbling away quite quickly at a file, a small timid knock was at the door.

He looked up for a moment, then back down.

"Come in."

Heels clicked against the floor as the door creaked open, revealing a rather ragged looking Grell, with her hair up and makeup missing.

"I have something for you."

William didn't look up from the file. No emotion at work, or in front of your cheating girlfriend.

"What is it?"

She took another couple steps, setting an envelope down on the wooden desk with a sigh.

William stayed silent for yet another moment, flicking his eyes up against the letter.

"I'll open it lat-"

"Open it now."

The sternness in Grell's voice was not overlooked. He took the letter, peeling it open slowly, as not to rip anything inside.

The supervisor then pulled out two tickets, and boarding passes. For an airplane? Why was this being given to him?

He read over the paper. A trip to Venice? Certainly not for him.

"Why do I have this in my possession?"

"Unlike you previously thought, I had been working overtime for the past two weeks to save up for a trip for me and you. But, I'm sure you don't want to go with me now. Feel free to use those tickets as you please."

She half smiled at him, but he noted the sadness in her eyes.

"You were saving up for a trip?"

"Correct."

"For us?"

"...correct."

_William had never been a man of apologies, but he felt as if the kiss that followed was enough to voice his feelings after all._


	16. Chapter 16 - Labyrinth 1

**[[Authors note: This is just the beginning to a multi-chapter Drabble. Next chapter will be posted shortly. Read and review, thanks!]]**

White.

White walls.

Her eyes opened to an absence of colour, her head pounding and her eyelids heavy.

_White. _

_Innocence._

_Purity._

Repulsive. What a horrible shade to be surrounded by. It drowned out her thoughts, made her feel empty.

_She could only see white. _

A blur of white, at that. Where were her glasses? An attempt at turning her head failed, it was far too sore to even twitch in the right direction.

Her hands. She couldn't move them. Bound down to the bed with metal, simple enough to break for a reaper. Simple.

_Simple_.

It was difficult. She struggled and writhed on the white sheets, opening her mouth to attempt to make an audible noise.

Nothing.

Now, if there was one thing she was known for, it was that she was prescient. Knowing what was going on was a speciality of hers. She rarely went by unnoticed, unannounced, unrecognised.

So why couldn't she figure out where she was?

They were pumping something into her. She felt the needle protruding from her arm. A drug? Not only that. A soporific drug. Eyelids closed over emerald, bloodshot orbs.

**An absence of colour. **


	17. Chapter 17- Labyrinth 2

**[[Author's Note: I'm a horrible, horrible author. I'm sorry I haven't been posting lately, school's just been busy. I have two chapters written, and they'll be up- hopefully - soon. All you guys are so sweet though. Sorry!]]**

Director William T. Spears

London Division

Collections Department

"The Summer of 1986 was the last time I can remember her being stable."

He paused. An adjusting of glasses. An obstreperous behaviour.

"I remember the morning clearly."

_Every day, it was. Every single say she visited him. Secretly, he wondered if it was for her gain or his. He never spoke to her as a friend, never asked her questions other than how her paperwork was going._

_Certainly that was no way to live. She had no reason to come in his office every day without fail. It had only been centuries they had been together. And every single day he had seen her, ignored her, and sent her to work._

_Except for today._

_There was something in the pit of stomach that made him feel sick. He liked consistency. Change was hard for the strict reaper. Everything was supposed to be in order, supposed to be together. His workers, paperwork, and reapings flowed like clockwork._

_Sure, there were a few loose bolts, but there was only one that was completely missing._

_And why wasn't she busting through his office?_

_The day went by as normal, excluding the red reaper being absent. Around noon, however, there was a small knock of his door. Timid. Certainly it couldn't be Grell. _

_"Come in."_

_Against his previous thoughts, his former partner entered into his office, that familiar Cheshire grin planted on her face. _

_"Hello there, darling~"_

_He paused. He looked back down to the file he was completing. _

_"You're late."_

_Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she sauntered over to the mahogany desk, her hand covering the paper he was filling._

_Red nails. Manicured to perfection. _

_"What on Earth are you talking about~?", she purred, sliding the file further away from him until his pen dropped against the hardwood, and he looked up at her again. _

_"You come into my office every single day at precisely eight o'clock. It's noon." _

_He adjusted his glasses once more and looked back down at the file, which was now in her hand, and she was glancing over it._

_"Sutcliff. Give that back."_

_"You were worried about me, weren't you? Admit it. Strict old Spears was concerned about me~" _

_He ignored her assumptions, glaring bullets at the other._

_"Give it back." _

_Grell tutted and let the paper fall back onto his desk. _

_"I wish you'd admit it." _

_He picked his pen back up, scooting the file back over in front of him and continuing the process he was trying to complete._

_"Please stop ignoring me."_

_His pen stopped. Grell surely couldn't have said that. Please? And to recognise the fact that he was ignoring her? Odd. _

_"I'm not ignoring you. I have work to complete. I care about my position, unlike others."_

_Cold. He answered coldly, like always. No emotion. She didn't deserve that much._

_She stepped away from his desk, her nails digging into the wood as she did so. Anger. It coursed through her veins and made her cheeks redden._

_She did not deserve to be ignored. She was Grell Sutcliff. She was better than them. Her profligate behaviour was not only from her own personality, but from her own belief that nobody was worthy enough to be her opponent._

_Except for William. William had defeated her before. William deserved her attention. _

_But he ignored it. Why? She wasn't rude to him, except on occasion when they argued. _

_They always made up. She was never angry at him for long, of course he was cold, but that's what she loved about him._

_The fact he could turn her away so easily aroused her. Especially when he was the only one she cared about. _

_Oh, William.._

_"Please do not destroy my property."_

_She glared and felt the extreme need to dump the vat of ink all over his work. She surpassed her want and instead stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind her._

_Normal behaviour._

"That was the last time she was in my office."


End file.
